


Technicality

by garbagebabygirl



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, lots of one liners, the law is cool and hot, these nerds are in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-10-02 16:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagebabygirl/pseuds/garbagebabygirl
Summary: Say what you want about James M. McGill, Esquire at Law, but the man is damn good at making people believe in ghosts. Even if it’s just for fun. Even if it’s just to make Kim smile.In which our fave partners in law/partners in love pull schemes under fake names, get drunk in the dark, and accidentally buy a home. This hell story takes place in the glorious sliver of time of "will they won't they?" before everything went to shit with Chuck.





	1. The Open House

**Author's Note:**

> this hell show has affected me so much that it's inspired me to post my very first hell fic. @readers, have fun; @vince gilligan, hire me tbh.

Say what you want about James M. McGill, Esquire at Law, but the man is damn good at making people believe in ghosts.

One of the open house perusers, donned in khaki pants and professionally-whitened teeth, leaned into the real estate agent nervously. “This is going to sound insane… but I thought I heard something in the master bedroom.”

“Pardon?” the real estate agent frowned. From their corner of the showcased living room, Kim and Jimmy stifled laughs.

“I know, it sounds insane,” the potential-buyer continued. “But I believe this house may be… possessed.”

Kim snorted, turning her attention to the hardwood floors when the realtor looked at them suspiciously. Jimmy played along, muttering something like “Hmm. I just don’t know about hardwood, you know Junior is always running around in his cleats.”

“Sir I can assure you that there is nothing supernatural in this house. It passed inspection.” The real estate agent continued. “Are you sure it wasn’t-”

“No, it wasn’t a lawn mower or a crying baby or the house settling.” Khaki Pants raised his voice, glancing around nervously. “It was like a growl… or a wail. And suddenly I felt… empty!”

Jimmy squeezed Kim’s hand to keep her from bursting. He stepped between the two men. “What did you hear?”

“It was like… a demonic moan.” Khaki Pants frantically eyed the stairs leading to the master bedroom.

“Are you telling us this house is haunted,” Jimmy turned to the real estate agent, raising his voice so it carried throughout the room. “And your agency did nothing to inform the public?”

Other browsers were wandering towards him now, half-amused, half-intrigued. Jimmy already had these people kissing his ugly ring, and they’d only been at the open house for twenty minutes. 

Say what you want about James M. McGill, Esquire at Law, but the man is damn good at making people believe in ghosts. Even if it’s just for fun.

“What, is this place built on some sort of burial ground? Some sort of old cemetery? Like that movie… what’s that movie?”

“Poltergeist.” Kim said plainly from behind her glass of white wine.

“Poltergeist, folks!”  
“What’s going on here,” A woman in a cable net sweater closed in on the real estate agent. “Is he telling the truth?”

“Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous,” the agent pleaded. “This is a beautiful, pre-modern style home being sold at below market value! There are no ghosts.”

“I heard them!” Khaki Pants was excited now. “That must be why it’s under market price!”

One by one each of the potential-buyers left the house, the effect of both group think and, in Khaki Pants’ case, genuine terror. Once the house was clear, Jimmy firmly shook the real estate agent’s hand.

“Wilson Reese, nice to meet you,” Jimmy smiled. “Let’s talk closing costs.” 

 

When Kim said she’d needed some cheering up, she had no idea that this was what Jimmy had in mind. Of course, that’s how it always goes.

“I can’t believe you convinced him to sell you that house one hundred thousand below asking price! Jesus, Jimmy!”

“Yes, praise Jesus: the man who instilled the fear of possession in me at the tender age of thirteen. For without ye Wilson and Magnolia Reese would not have purchased such a beautiful estate,” he said, his ever-gravelly voice competing with the sounds of the Albuquerque open road.

“Fear of possession?”

“At the tender age of thirteen,” he held Kim’s cigarette as she drove, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out of the open window. “I used to think my washer was a demonic hum, punishing me for all the times I jerked off.”

“Lovely.” Kim plucked her cigarette from Jimmy’s hand. “But this has to be Slippin’ Jimmy’s most ridiculous score yet. I mean hiding a tape recorder in a couch cushion? Who thinks of that?”

“The key is you don’t want the ghost sounds to be too obvious. You know, avoid your basic oooo’s and rattling chains. For subtlety’s sake, I just recorded the nail salon’s air conditioner with a few whispered Latin phrases sprinkled in.”

Jimmy smiled proudly, his thinning hair blowing recklessly in the wind. The hot sun of the Southwest meant a perpetual sunburn for his Irish skin, and Kim would never admit to loving the way it brought out freckles on his arms. Once in the conference room, as they listened to Howard mechanically describe an upcoming deposition, she had even bothered to count them.

“Checking out the gun show?” Jimmy had whispered when he caught her staring. Kim kicked him when she was sure Howard wasn’t looking.

Wilson Reese flicked their cigarette out the window. Say what you want about James M. McGill, Esquire at Law, but the man is damn good at making people believe in ghosts. Even if it’s just for fun. Even if it’s just to make Kim smile.

They pulled into the nail salon, Kim parking her car beside Jimmy’s piece of shit Suzuki Esteem. She was much more used to seeing the parking lot empty, streetlights on, sounds of the highway faintly in the distance. During the day it was flooded by women in flip flops.

“See you tonight? At Chuck’s?” Jimmy asked before opening the car’s door.

“Sure,” Kim nodded. “Should I bring anything?”

“Booze. And lots of it.” She knew Jimmy was only half-kidding. “Unless you want to take over my bestowed honor of being the damn Ice Queen.”

“I’ll pass. No one buys twenty pound bags of ice like you.”

They lingered for a moment in the car’s hot silence. Goodbyes never came naturally. Kim and Jimmy were like two best friends that didn’t want the sleepover to end. Best friends that sometimes kissed.

“Okay well see you tonight, Magnolia,” Jimmy finally climbed out of the car and made his way into the nail salon. “Hello, ladies!” Kim heard him say as he opened the salon’s front door. She exhaled, pulled a cigarette from its pack, and placed it between her teeth. Proceedings on the Robinson case started next week. The phone bill was due. Chuck’s party tonight. She needed to drop off a blazer at the cleaners. The meeting with the partners on Monday. Prepping her witness for the Walter trial.

Kim lit her cigarette, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and drove away.


	2. Chuck's Weird Party (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Chuck throw a zero-electricity, raw vegan-catered HHM affair. And let's just say, Kim is NOT just sticking to Pinot Grigio tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very much dipping my toe into the water of writing sex stuff. But in my head, Kim is just as bad at talking about sex stuff, so it all works out.

When Chuck returned to HHM, Howard, in all of his Infinite Wisdom, definitively stated that the firm needed to throw a party. Chuck, Jimmy, and almost everyone else hesitated, believing the stress would be too much for Chuck. The man can’t be in a room with a flip phone, let alone strobe lights and a stereo. However, Chuck’s determination to beat his disease meant that he wanted his return to go as normal as possible. Hence he insisted on having a party. Hence Kim being in a cocktail dress on Chuck’s porch, her cell phone inside of his mailbox.  
“Did you ground yourself?” Ernie asked immediately after opening the door. “Oh, hey Kim!”

“Ernie! Chuck has you on door duty?” Ernie shrugged the shoulders of his too-big borrowed suit jacket. “You’re going to own HHM someday.” And Kim actually believed it.

“Kim you better be right,” he gestured to the doorbell-like “grounding device” before adjusting his glasses. “Jimmy’s already inside.”

“What makes you think I’m looking for Jimmy? I’m here to support Chuck.”

Ernie stared at her blankly. Poor kid, he isn’t paid enough to answer doors and listen to Kim lie. 

Kim had only been to Chuck’s house once before, delivering files or some other HHM-related mindless task. On that one occasion the house had looked like a post-apocalyptic fallout shelter: circuit-breaker wires strung out and cut, gas lamps faintly illuminating coolers of ice and raw meat. She was impressed at its transformation, and it now resembled a semi-normal, mood-lit lounge. HHM had hired a jazz trio to play acoustic music in Chuck’s living room, and the usual medieval gas lamps were replaced by colorful paper lanterns. Bookshelves and boxes of case files had been rearranged to make space for caterers, although the platters boasted food unfamiliar to Kim.

“Ever heard of raw vegans?’ Jimmy was behind her now, wearing a ridiculous neon geometric-print shirt. “They’re, like, super health vegans that think ovens are bad for your body. Chuck’s idea. I don’t know. I’m just the guy that brings the ice.”

“This place looks… completely new! Did Ernie do all of this?” Kim asked. At the sound of his name Ernie waved from his station at the door.

“I know right. If anyone deserved to escape the mailroom it’s him, not us slackers.” Jimmy grabbed a flute glass of champagne from a nearby caterer and put it in Kim’s hand.

“Thanks,” she took a long sip, tasting instantly that HHM went for the good stuff, despite the fact that they were throwing a glorified house party. “What the hell are you wearing anyway?”

“Oh, you like?” Jimmy popped his tacky collar. “I like to be a little flashy for a party. And since this party is completely in the dark, I figured I needed to…”

“Overcompensate?”

“In so many words, yes,” he threw back the remainder of his drink. “Speaking of overcompensating, have you seen Howard’s date yet?”

“No why?” Kim scanned the room for Howard, whom she had never actually considered to have a life outside of HHM. Jimmy joked that after work he would plug himself into the wall like an ethernet cable and recharge, blankly, with a marathon of Fraiser on in the background. 

“She’s wearing Hamlindigo blue. I’m serious, I think he might have had her dress custom made.”

Kim finally landed on Howard and his date, a woman who somehow shared his exact posture and demeanor despite being ten or so years younger. And she was actually wearing Hamlindigo blue.

“I’ve never seen her before. Not even a picture,” Kim laughed. “Oh my God, do you think maybe he just asked one of the first years to pose as his date so he wouldn’t look alone?”

“I didn’t think this was that type of function. Otherwise I would’ve asked one of my Sandpiper clients,” He reached for another drink. “I’m serious, once I was doing a will for some lady and she said I looked like the boys she used to sleep at her Catholic boarding school.”

“I mean who can blame her, you are the poster boy for shameful, pasty passion.” Kim said plainly. 

“Speaking of pasty…”

The jazz trio stopped playing as Howard and Chuck moved towards the center of the living room. Howard clinked his glass.

“God, he clinked his glass with his cufflink. What a douchebag.” Jimmy whispered, earning him an elbow to the side from Kim.

“Good evening to my co-workers and their loved ones, and thank you all for coming tonight.” Howard’s smiled revealed, as always, all thirty-two of his bleached teeth. “We’re here to celebrate the beginning of a victorious return for our colleague and friend, Charles McGill.”

The room erupted in applause, to which Chuck nodded proudly and waved his hand like a beauty pageant winner. Jimmy rolled his eyes, and Kim gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“With my father, Charles built HHM from the ground up. Today, HHM is an institution that brings people together, one that facilitates peace, retribution and justice. HHM has given me, and many of you, unspeakable opportunities. Connections, inspiration, education...”

Kim swallowed, reminded of her personal debt to HHM. The hand that feeds. Now it was Jimmy’s turn to give her a reassuring squeeze.

“And we are so glad to have you join us again. Welcome home, Chuck.” Howard pulled Chuck into an awkward hug, and once again the room erupted into cheers. Jimmy clapped mechanically.

“I need another drink,” he sulked off, leaving Kim to lock eyes with Howard. It sent a chill up her spine. Howard’s girl wrapped her arms around him and he reciprocated, never taking his stare off of Kim. Jimmy reappeared behind her with two shots of tequila.

“I thought we needed something stronger,” Jimmy her a shot, and Howard turned away. They clinked glasses and gulped, wincing at the tequila’s burn as Chuck addressed the room.

“You may not believe this coming from a lawyer, but I’ll keep this brief,” Chuck said to a mildly amused room. Jimmy shot Kim a look.

“I’m on it,” Kim said knowingly. She retreated to the drink table.

Beside the plates of artfully-prepared fruit and seed-infused raw vegan crackers Kim found the drink table. And yeah, HHM really had sprung for the expensive stuff. Top shelf liquor, aged French wine, microbrews in every shade of brown. She was overwhelmed by her choices: at home, Kim was strictly a discount Pinot Grigio drinker.

“Looking for this?” Suddenly Howard was behind her, offering an unopened bottle of, yes, Pinot Grigio.

“Am I really that predictable?”

“We’ve been to enough luncheons for me to take note of your drink order,” Howard replied.

“Well, I think tonight calls for something a little more adventurous,” Kim suggested. “After all it is a special night. For Chuck.”

“Hopefully not too adventurous,” Howard says, cryptically. 

“Meaning?” Kim glanced to Jimmy, who was watching them intently. 

“Kim, I’d like to ask you a favor on behalf of Chuck. Like you said, it is his special night.”

“Sure, anything,” she avoided Jimmy’s gaze.

“Keep an eye on Jimmy tonight. I know you’re his friend, so I know you can ensure he… behaves himself. This is an important night for Chuck, for HHM, despite the unconventional setting.”

“Sir, you know Jimmy-”

“Precisely my point.” Howard handed Kim the bottle of Pinot Grigio and walked off. Jimmy looked over to her, mouthing everything ok? over Chuck’s speech. Kim nodded, shoved the bottle of wine back into the mass of booze, and weighed her options. 

“And finally,” Chuck was wrapping up. “Of all the people I have to thank for my journey back to wellness, I hold the deepest gratitude for Howard, of course. My partner at law, my friend, thank you for saving my place at HHM and helping me pick up where I left off.”

Howard raised his glass to Chuck as applause engulfed the room. Kim looked to Jimmy, left thankless and clapping artificially in his neon shirt. The night definitely called for something more adventurous. Kim discreetly grabbed a bottle of Patron. She returned for Jimmy and grabbed him by the arm.

“Come on.”

“Can you believe this shit? God I thought they were gonna start gazing into each other’s eyes.”

“I know, come on.”

“I mean, what else can Chuck thank Howard for?” Jimmy was louder now; he never had been able to handle his alcohol. “Thanks Howard for playing ball with me as a kid, thanks for being my little brother!”

“I know, I know. Come on.” Kim ushered him into the back of the house, ignoring Howard’s approving nod.

When they were finally alone in Chuck’s back office, Jimmy shoved a stack of papers from his desk. “I mean come on, at a party? What the hell was that. And you know Howard was just eating that shit up.”

“Want to drink about it?” Kim revealed the bottle of Patron from behind her back.

“Definitely. But first, let me make a toast: to my brother’s intimate relationship with your boss,” he took the bottle and grimaced through a long sip. Drops of liquor dropped from his chin onto the horrible geometric shirt, staining the irreverent shapes like drops of blood. Kim wouldn’t bother to tell Jimmy about Howard’s “behaves himself” comment. Not now. Not productive. She pulled her hair, which she had attempted to curl for the party, into a ponytail.

“Don’t let it get to you.” She cupped his chin and forced his gaze to meet her’s. “Seriously don’t. You’re your own lawyer now. You don’t answer to them anymore. Really, you never did.” They locked eyes. Even through drunken, heavy eyelids Jimmy looked at her with such understanding. The jazz and conversations from the party were distant. “Anyway, hand me that.”

Kim grimaced through her own long sip, and Jimmy snapped out of his stare. “Atta girl, Kim.”

They passed the liquor back and forth until Jimmy was visibly intoxicated and Kim’s ponytail had sloppily migrated to the side. “I gotta say, Ms. Wexler. I never thought you’d be throwing them back with the best of us. Aren’t you worried about what your peers will say? The gossip around the proverbial water cooler?” Drunk Jimmy asked clumsily.

“First, I can pass as much more sober than you can. Second…” she adjusted his crooked collar. “This is hardly a professional party. We’re at your brother’s house.”

“Yeah but it is looking very romantic tonight,” he half-smiled. Kim thought back to Ernie’s Jimmy’s already inside and Howard’s behaves himself. Half the office knew that they were friends, and on a few occasions people had asked if they were hooking up. On one particularly slow night in the doc review dungeon, one of the aspiring paralegals had asked if she had ever fucked Jimmy in the conference room. Kim had briskly closed her folders and called it a night.

And maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that Chuck’s house actually did feel very romantic tonight, but Kim told Jimmy this. “People already think we’re together!” She blurted it out faster than she had intended.

“Do they?” Jimmy was amused at Kim’s discomfort more so than the actual statement. 

“Once in doc review,” she explained, still much faster than she had intended. “That dorky kid with the thick glasses asked if we had ever fucked in the conference room!”

“And? What did you say?” 

“No!” Kim said firmly. She instinctively reached for her ponytail only to realize that it was so out of place. She was more drunk than she had thought. “No, we didn’t.”

“Do you ever wish that we did?” he asked, obviously enjoying watching Kim feel flustered.

“Jimmy!”

“Come on, you can tell me! We’re like best friends. In my brother’s house, drunk as all hell, with all of the lights off. It’s like high school!” He handed Kim the bottle of Patron, lowered his voice. “Have you ever thought about fucking me?”

Jimmy nodded toward the bottle, urging her to drink. Kim took a thoughtful sip. “Yes.”

“Thank you! Was that so hard?”

“We should go back, Howard may be wondering-”

“I promise we’ll go see Howard and eat all of the vegan seed bread in the world after you fill me in. Come on, what did we do? You can’t leave me hanging!”

“I literally hate you, and you’re going to hell,” Kim sighed in defeat.

“I’ll say my Hail Marys.”

Kim pursed her lips. And maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that Jimmy, his eyes dark and heavy, was hanging on her every word. But Kim actually told him what she was thinking. What she had shamefully thought of more often than she would ever admit to him or to anyone.

“I had this… thought,” she rolled her eyes. “That we’re in the mailroom. Like, late when everyone’s gone. And we’re bored. So--remember that printer? Towards the back?-- we sit on the floor behind it. And you start kissing my neck… and my chest. And I unbutton whatever horrible collared shirt you’re wearing. And,” she took a purposeful swig of Patron. “And yeah. We have sex.”

She met Jimmy’s eyes for the first time in the conversation. He was staring back at her, unreadable. They sat like this for a moment, spinning in drunken thought. No sarcastic comment, no bad joke, no cocky raise of his eyebrow. The jazz music and the voices of the party swelled on.

“Well, thank you Kim. Shall we?” Jimmy said finally. Kim’s heart stopped. Oh. He meant return to the party.

“Yeah, sure.” She helped her friend up from the floor and they returned to their co-workers outside.


	3. Chuck's Weird Party (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Chuck throw a zero-electricity, raw vegan-catered HHM affair. And let's just say, Kim is NOT just sticking to Pinot Grigio tonight. (Part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah there, hey sex scene !

So they left Chuck’s office separately (Kim’s request), returning to the party of their slightly-tipsy-yet-still-too-professional peers. Kim ended up wrangled into a conversation with Howard’s date, Star, who was actually way more interesting than she had anticipated. An environmental lawyer from Howard’s days at law school. Top of her class. Kim drunkenly cursed her own internalized misogyny and they made lunch plans for next week. 

Meanwhile, Jimmy and someone else from the mailroom, whose name Kim had shamefully forgotten, were paying the jazz trio to play Truckin’ by the Grateful Dead. Over and over again.

“Jimmy what are you doing,” Chuck rubbed his temples, exasperated. “Why are you incessantly requesting this stoner song?”

“Hey! Truckin’ is an American classic, man!” Jimmy high-fived his accomplice. Chuck pulled a bottle of aspirin from his pocket and swallowed two pills, dry. Chuck must have been the only person not drinking tonight. Jeffrey from HR was directing the first years to take shots. Mark and Deb from Accounting were arm-in-arm, singing along to Truckin’ every damn time Jimmy requested it. Even Howard had an uncharacteristic pink flush to his cheeks. 

“Pinot Grigio?” Star offered Kim a glass. Sure. Why not. Wearing her hair down, drinking Patron, talking about her secret Jimmy sex thoughts. That wasn’t Kim. Kim was politely drinking a glass of Pinot Grigio, getting to know her colleague’s date. Where in Michigan are you from? Gluten-free for how long? Interesting. She caught Jimmy’s eye from across the room and he immediately looked to the floor.

“Ms. Wexler,” Chuck was behind her now, holding a cup of chamomile tea.

“Chuck. Hi,” she motioned to his tea. “Where did you even-”

“Would you please make it stop,” With his tea and casual cardigan, you would never guess that Chuck was the host of this party. “You know he’s just trying to get your attention.”

And even though Kim was an adult woman with a car and a mortgage, she wasn’t ready to look Jimmy in the eyes right now. It was stupid and it was embarrassing, but Kim felt… nervous about revealing her dirty hypothetical mailroom sex thoughts to him. They were best friends. Best friends who sometimes kiss. And yeah, sometimes Kim did think about having sex with Jimmy. But that was to be expected. Once she had a dream that she had sex with Chuck. So yeah, Kim a few times thought about sleeping with her best friend. And today she told him. And there should be nothing awkward about that.

Except what Kim hadn’t told him was that it wasn’t just sometimes. It was a lot. 

And so even though Kim was an adult woman drinking wine and talking about hometowns with another adult woman, her heart was beating like a teenager. She was drunk in the dark of her crush’s brother’s house. Adult Kim could return tomorrow, but for tonight she was buzzing in the colorful glow of flammable paper lanterns, drunk off the good stuff and telling the truth to her best friend in the world.

“Sure, Chuck.” Kim downed her Pinot Grigio and handed the glass to Star. She pushed past the unnamed mailroom boy and pulled at the sleeve of Jimmy’s neon shirt, damp with sweat and spilled liquor.

“Come get the Patron with me?” 

Jimmy nodded nervously and the two retraced their steps back to Chuck’s office. 

“What, did I get grounded for Truckin’? Does no one want to reminisce on what a long strange trip it’s been?”

Kim looked him dead in the eyes. She grabbed the sticky bottle of Patron from the floor and took a powerful sip. No grimace. “It doesn’t have to be weird.”

Jimmy’s smile faded. “Of course it doesn’t have to be weird. Obviously, Kim. Come on everybody imagines-”

Kim didn’t let him finish. She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. Hard. Tasted the liquor on his lips, felt his mouth twitch into a small smile as she pressed into him.

Kim pulled away slowly, resting her forehead on Jimmy’s so their eyes were locked. “Do you? About me?”

He caught his breath, stunned. Jimmy reached for Kim’s ponytail and twirled it around his finger. “All the fucking time,” She pulled him back into her, bunching her hands in the fabric of his geometric shirt. Kim bit at his bottom lip and he whispered it again, “all the fucking time, Kim.” He shoved her up against the wall, the sounds of the party playing over their shallow breathing. Jimmy’s kiss was urgent as he squeezed Kim’s thighs beneath her cocktail dress.

“Not here,” she broke away, leaving Jimmy to start biting the space below her jaw. “Jimmy, I want to… not here.”

“What, you don’t want to fuck me in my brother’s office? With all of our co-workers right outside?” He kissed her neck and then her forehead. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

So they left Chuck’s office (again) at the same time, eyes wild, hair crooked, bite marks blooming in bright red along Kim’s neck. Their co-workers may have taken notice but it was lost on Jimmy and Kim. Although Kim did catch Ernie raise a discreet glass to the pair as they stumbled out the door.

The Uber ride back to Kim’s apartment was unbearable. Kim was trying to maintain polite, sober-passing conversation with the driver despite Jimmy playing footsie with her. The action was more goofy than sexual anyway, since Jimmy had slid off his shoe and revealed a tattered, off-white pair of socks. Very Jimmy. It made her want to kiss his idiot head, to kiss the bald spot that he was so insecure of despite the fact that Kim secretly loved it so much. At some point, they started holding hands. Sweaty and nice. She laid her head on his shoulder.

 

“Too bad there’s no copy machine in here,” Jimmy said, breathless and raspy, when they finally stepped inside Kim’s apartment. “We can’t fulfill your dirty mailroom fantasy.”

“Jimmy, shut up!” Kim laughed, furiously unbuttoning the metallic buttons of his neon shirt.  
“Have any printer paper? I can spread it out on your bed, since that’s what you’re into,” Jimmy kicked off his shoes.

“I am so regretting that I told you that…” Kim pressed her head into Jimmy’s chest as she fumbled with his mismatched belt. “Anyway, that’s like so tame. Very vanilla.”

“I’m Catholic,” Jimmy grabbed Kim’s ass and smiled his crooked smile. “Nothing is vanilla.”

“If you call me Sister Kim during sex I’m literally going to kill you.”

Kim pinned Jimmy’s pale shoulders to her bed. She’d never seen them bare before: so many freckles she’d never counted. She dug her fingernails into his back, pressing her full weight onto him. 

“Seriously, should I bring a tape dispenser into the mix? Want to watch me lick some envelopes-?”

Kim put her hand over his mouth and started biting Jimmy’s neck, eliciting shallow whimpers from him. She could feel him growing hard against her thigh and honestly Kim didn’t think that Jimmy would be this responsive. His hands cupped the small of her back and he pulled her further into him. Her stomach against his, legs tangled. Another small whimper. She removed her hand from his mouth.

“Kim you’re so hot,” Jimmy sat up and kissed her, licking her top lip slightly before entering her mouth. He clumsily unclasped her bra through their kiss. “Jesus, how have we not done this sooner...” He pulled away, looked at her bare chest in awe. 

Kim reached for her bedside table, pulling out a condom from its pack. Jimmy’s eyes were dark and heavy as he watched her carefully bite and tear the foil. In all honesty, the last time she had used one of these (some defense attorney that she had met at a mixer), she was thinking of Jimmy. Of course, she’d never tell him that.

“You’re chattier than I thought,” Kim smiled, rolling the condom onto Jimmy’s erection.

“You really expected me to not be chatty?” he smiled sheepishly, eyes fixed on Kim’s hands. “Just one last thing and I’ll promise I’ll shut up.”

Kim rested her forehead on his, straddling his stomach with her bare legs. “Shoot.”

“I think we should live in that house.”

“Huh?”

“The haunted pre-modern. Magnolia Reese. I want to live there with you, Kim,” Jimmy breathed heavily, looking directly into Kim’s eyes. His proposal was slurred, but he meant it. And maybe it was because she was still drunk, or because her best friend/hardcore crush was hard and hungry beneath her. But it sounded like a good idea.

“Yes,” Kim kissed his forehead. And even though her view of Jimmy, naked and beneath her, was blurry, she meant it too. “Let’s do it!”

And with that she sank down onto him. Jimmy leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a gravelly moan.


	4. $20,000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim has doubts and a Liz Phair CD. Jimmy has hair on his stomach and that sweet sweet cash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Kim totally listens to Liz Phair's first two albums, and so do I. Also, to all of my "readers"... y'all are truly shining stars and I always read your sweet sweet comments aloud to whomever I'm with. I love you!! Also also, shout out to my s/o Ryan for always proofreading my chapters, since I'm usually drinking when I write them.

Incidentally, Howard was the first to find out. And it was entirely Kim’s fault. Here she was, thinking Jimmy would be the one to brag to the wrong person, but as it turned out Kim’s non-discreet phone calls to her bank in an office full of lawyers were much more reckless than Jimmy McGill’s big mouth. And so on one Wednesday afternoon, as she talked mortgage details and twirled an imaginary phone cord like a gossiping teenager, Howard put two and two together. 

“Buying a house, Ms. Wexler?” Howard appeared in her doorway. “Pardon my overhearing,”

“Oh! Yes. I am.” Kim could feel herself beaming now. “Pre-modern, below asking price, no closing costs.”

“Wow! Congratulations,” Howard leaned against her desk. “How did you manage that deal?”

“Oh, well you know Jimmy. He worked his charm and got us a deal,” she waved a hand, freezing in mid air.  _ Shit.  _

Howard parted his lips into a small smile. “Jimmy?” He folded his hands, and Kim could swear she saw a twinkle in his eyes. Thriving as a defense attorney, even in friendly conversation.

“You know what I mean. He came along with me, as a friend. I really… value his taste,” Kim thought back to a particularly egregious brown and pink tie she’d found in Jimmy’s closet. Howard crossed his arms and smiled.

“Well, congratulations to the both of you,” he said. “I thought the two of you were looking especially giddy when you left Chuck’s party.”

“Oh well we… it really wasn’t…” Kim sighed, defeated. “Did Jimmy say anything to you?” 

“No, but give me some credit, Ms. Wexler. I’m more than capable of deducing the nature of your relationship with Jimmy. If I couldn’t come to this conclusion on my own, I would seriously be doubting my ability as a lawyer,” Howard winked and it sent shivers down her spine. A fine tuned litigation machine in pearl cufflinks.

“There was…  _ is  _ no relationship, sir. It just happens to work out. My lease is almost up and Jimmy can’t keep living at the nail salon…”

“Of course. And I assure you that I will keep this…  _ development  _ to myself,” Howard lowered his voice, still maintaining his ever-professional tone. “But Kim if I may… offer some advice. As a friend. Have you looked into the logistics of buying a home? With Jimmy McGill?”

Of course she had. She had been approved for the loan, and Jimmy had some money set aside. Plus he wouldn’t have to pay rent to the salon anymore. And they had a great deal on the house. And everything else would just… work out. Financially and socially.

“I just think you should protect your assets: think of your own credit score, your future, your financial safety net. Ensure that you’re not being taken advantage of. It’s what Jimmy does best,”

“Howard-”

“Sorry, I’m stepping out of line. Not my business,” he moved away from Kim’s desk and placed a hand on the doorknob. “I know you can handle yourself, Kim. And again, I’ll be sure to keep this between us.”

Kim sat frozen in the silence of her empty office. Of course she had thought of logistics. Kim and Jimmy had talked logistics. He had money set aside, but she would take out the loan in her name. It was for the best. They could afford this. And Jimmy was her best friend. He would never… she couldn’t even say it to herself. Jimmy would never do anything to hurt Kim.

They had an appointment with the realtor at four. She’d mention Howard’s comment to Jimmy on the way over, where he’d inevitably make fun of his hair and his robotic movements and emphatically assure Kim that, of course, he would never hurt her. Jimmy would know exactly what to say. And they’d talk logistics.

Kim repeated this mantra to herself as she trekked through the dry New Mexico summer to the top level of HHM’s parking garage. She peeled the metallic sun protectors from her windshield and sank into the driver’s seat, reaching instinctively for her pack of cigarettes in the glove compartment. Her favorite part of the day. Lately she’d been playing an old Liz Phair CD on her car stereo, singing along to “Fuck and Run” and reminiscing about her nights out as an undergrad. All denim jackets and dark red lipstick. 

_ And almost immediately I felt sorry cause I didn’t think this would happen again… _

 

_ T _ hat next morning after Chuck’s party, Kim had woken up alone in her bed, the smell of Jimmy’s aftershave still on her pillow. Her heart sank, oscillating from  _ oh shit we had sex  _ to  _ wait where is that son of a bitch anyway?  _

“Good morning, Ms. Wexler,” Jimmy appeared in her doorway with two mugs of coffee and a sleepy smile. He was wearing one of her t-shirts, an oversized relic from her law school rec baseball league with  _ Lady Lawyers! _ printed across the front. “You’re not getting this shirt back, by the way.”

Kim accepted her mug of coffee. “Thanks. I thought you had left… I was gonna have to kick your ass.”

“Nope, just brewing some sweet coffee,” Jimmy climbed back into bed next to her. “I know how you get that little twinge of a headache when you’re hungover.”

It was true, but Kim couldn’t remember ever telling him that. She watched him take a slow sip of his coffee, his hair messy, his freckles hidden beneath her tacky t-shirt. Best friends that sometimes kiss. Best friends that, sometimes, even have sex.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jimmy said from behind his mug. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Jimmy, we had sex,” Kim said in disbelief.

“Crazy right,” he took another sip. “It rocked your world didn’t it? And if it didn’t, blame it on Catholic school. There’s a learning curve that I jumped in late on.”

“It was… very adequate,” Kim sipped her coffee, fought back a grin. “So how drunk were you? How much do you remember?”

“More than you’re probably giving me credit for,” he said. “Like, that we agreed to become homeowners.” Jimmy clinked his coffee cup against her’s.

“Wow, we were really wasted weren’t we?”

“See what happens when you stray from Pinot Grigio, Kimmy?” he slid his free hand beneath her’s, interlocking their fingers. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Okay but hear me out-”

“Jimmy…”

“Hear me out Kim!” he gave her hand a small squeeze. “Your lease is almost up, the nail polish fumes are giving me permanent brain damage, and we.... we just  _ work  _ together!”

“Jimmy, we don’t even know what this is. If it’s anything.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything,” he offered. “Two friends, two separate bedrooms. Whatever happens, happens. But you can’t tell me that it sounds entirely terrible.”

“Not entirely terrible,” Kim considered the prospect of Jimmy bringing her coffee every morning, of carpooling, of sharing dinner every night. Definitely not entirely terrible. “But can we afford it?”

“I have money set aside. Don’t even worry about that.”

The track ended. Kim started it over.

_ I woke up alarmed, I didn’t know where I was at first just that I woke up in your arms… _

If Slippin’ Jimmy was the reason they had gotten the house, would he be the reason they’d lose it? Would he be the reason Kim would lose everything she’d worked for?   


_ And almost immediately I felt sorry… _

 

But there was never any Slippin’ Jimmy with Kim. Never anything to prove, nothing to gain. Just two best friends who enjoy each other’s company. Best friends who sometimes kiss or even have sex. 

That night, after Jimmy had fallen asleep, Kim laid on his bare chest. She ran her hands over the hair on his belly, watched his face relax beneath sweaty strands of hair. The only time he wasn’t cracking a raspy joke. And if the rest of the foreseeable future included her watching this asshole sleep, so fucking be it. Not entirely terrible.

Kim crushed her cigarette into the ashtray as she pulled up to the nail salon’s parking lot, baking in the afternoon sun. She patted Jimmy’s yellow Saturn on her way in.

“Hello, I’m just going back to see Jimmy,” Kim smiled at the salon’s receptionist.

“Jimmy’s with a client,” she replied, uninterested.

“A client?” Kim’s mouth parted in surprise as she watched Jimmy emerge from his back room office/bedroom with, Kim couldn’t believe it, an actual client. He was older-- a Sandpiper straggler? Or someone new entirely? Kim hated herself for it, but the prospect of Jimmy having an honest-to-God client made him somehow hotter.

“Kim! Perfect,” Jimmy approached her and planted a polite kiss on her cheek. Kim was taken aback, wiped her cheeks as if she could remove her blush before it bloomed across her face. “I want you to meet my new favorite client,”

The older man offered Kim his hand. “Mike. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled. “I’m Kim, Jimmy’s… we’re… I know Jimmy.”

“Always the orator,” Jimmy chuckled.

“Jimmy told me about you,” Mike rumbled. “And if I may? You can do better than this clown.”

“Oh, well-”

“Thank you Mike, as always, for the kind words. And remember to validate your parking on the way out, some parking attendants can be real assholes about that.”

Mike shook Kim’s hand and shot Jimmy a knowing nod before retreating to the salon’s parking lot. Once he was gone, Kim slapped Jimmy on the back.

“Jimmy! A client?” she pulled him into a hug. “What kind of case? Another elder law?”

“Yeah, except this one is cherry, Kim. Come here, I have something for you.” Jimmy pulled Kim into his office/bedroom, with its peeling wallpaper and cramped furniture. He handed her an unmarked white envelope.

“What is this?”

“Open it.”

Kim opened the envelope to find a thick stack of hundred dollar bills. “Jimmy…” she flipped through them with her pointer finger. “There must be…”

“Twenty thousand,” Jimmy pulled her hand from the envelope and clasped it with his. “Kim, I told you we can do this…”

“Where did you even-”

“I told you, this case is cherry. Grade A. Supplemented by my savings, and yeah, we have a down payment.” he smiled. “Kim, we can do this.”

“For real?” she flipped through the money again, still in disbelief that it was actually in her hands. “This isn’t Slippin’ Jimmy?”

“No,” he was beaming now, squeezing her hands staring into her eyes. “This is all James M. McGill, Esquire at Law. Scout’s honor,” he held up his three fingers, the symbol for the Girl Scouts.

“Wow, I am so proud of you,” Kim dropped the envelope, breathless. “Jimmy! We can do this!”

“Damn right we can,” Jimmy grabbed her waist and pulled her into a kiss. She smiled into his lips, ran her hands through the back of his hair.

On the drive to the bank, they shared a cigarette and sang along to Kim’s Liz Phair CD together. Apparently they used to play the hits on the Cicero radio stations back in the 90s. And apparently, Kim was totally the type to listen to Liz Phair back then, according to Jimmy.

_ Whatever happened to a boyfriend? The kind of guy who tries to win you over and Whatever happened to a boyfriend? The kind of guy who makes love cause he’s in it… _

And somewhere between the second verse and the refrain, their hands met on top of the center console. 

  
  
  
  



	5. Silent Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy does some soul-searching and finds plants. Kim does some soul-searching and finds... ???;) Sorry for the hold up, but here's some trash for ya: half sinful, half sentimental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These three new episodes have knocked me on my ass!! Hope u guys are thriving.

“All right Kim, pick your poison.” 

“Dealer’s choice. Besides, you moved me out of my apartment. I should be the one giving you a pedicure.”

“I promise, you can paint mine after,” Jimmy was kneeling in front of her, his bald spot reflecting the fluorescent safety lights of the nail salon. “Now what’ll it be? Silent Spring or… uh Coconut Jewel?”

“Silent Spring? What, is that from like Rachel Carson’s line of cosmetics?”

“Shit,” Jimmy squinted at the label. “Make that Palm Springs. Freudian slip.” He uncapped the nail polish and carefully dragged the brush across Kim’s pinky toe. Shimmery orange. Very tacky. But it would be hidden beneath sensible Marshall’s heels for the rest of Kim’s foreseeable future, so it didn’t matter if it was lime green or blood red or splotchy from Jimmy’s shaky hands.

“So you’ve read Rachel Carson?” he asked, looking up at her from his place on the tiled floor.

“Yeah, everyone has,” Kim said. “It’s like, an essential Gen Ed required reading. Didn’t you ever have to take an environmental science class? Intro to Ecosystems or something like that?”

“I guess I missed that one in the American Samoa catalogue. But I did watch Captain Planet as a kid,” Jimmy cradled Kim’s ankle in his hand, holding it steady. “Hey, speaking of saving the rainforest from corporate greed, I want to run something by you.”

Kim leaned back into the tattered leather of her massage chair expectantly.

“I’m thinking of specializing. I mean really, officially specializing.”

“Oh yeah? In corporate law?”

“Kind of the opposite. In environmental law,” Jimmy looked up, face twisted into a nervous grimace, big brown eyes waiting for approval. “Just hear me out. I want to help people, Kim. Like with Sandpiper. I want to help all of the little old ladies who are getting conned by assholes with bleached teeth and tailored suits. The Man, if you will. And I can con these guys right back! I’m good at it and you know it, Kim. And so I’ve been reading a lot of stuff: Kropotkin, Bookchin-- a bunch of tree-hugging nerds. But they all talk about how multinational corporations blow up people’s mountain tops and fill their streams with chemicals and shit. And it’s always these poor, vulnerable communities.”

Kim looked down at her best friend. Jimmy’s eyes were wide and sincere. He was always so sure of himself, so convinced of his own ideas.

“So,” Kim pursed her lips. “Slippin’ Jimmy is the solution to worldwide environmental degradation, huh?”

“Maybe?”

“That’s a big leap from elder law, Jimmy. A lot of class-actions, a lot of case building, gathering testimonies…” Kim trailed off, picturing Jimmy in some far off Appalachian community pouring his Jimmy-charm all over the locals. Jimmy in a cheap forest green suit yelling at CEOs about carbon emissions. Ties with recycling symbols. It was actually… kind of perfect for him. “Are you sure? Will you need to go back to school?”

“I’m working all of that out now. But don’t worry… even if I have to go back to school I’ll find some way to still pay for the house. This doesn’t have to… change anything.”

Kim blushed. “I wasn’t worried about that. And I think it’s really great, Jimmy.”

“Yeah? You mean it?”

“Yeah!” Kim smiled, warmed by the excited sparkle in Jimmy’s eyes. Shit. 

Jimmy sprang up from the floor and pecked Kim’s forehead. “Thanks Kim. That means a lot. I don’t know, it’s weird. I just… want to be the kind of person that you’re proud of.”

Kim fought back a smile, her forehead still warm from the little kiss. She could feel it still, like a phantom limb. Shit shit shit. “Come on, you’ve still got five toes to paint.”

Jimmy continued to sloppily paint Kim’s toes while mindlessly chatting about his day. And even though the gentle brush strokes felt like little waves, even though the dimmed lights and industrial massage should have made Kim feel entirely relaxed, her jaw clenched. I just want to be the kind of person that you’re proud of. What was that shit. As if she wasn’t proud of him every day. That’s why they were best friends. That’s why they would be living together. The rest was just… accessory. Fine print. Technicality.

Kim traced the slope of his shoulders, watched him bite his lip in concentration. She thought of that first night, drunk and sparkling in Chuck’s office. The ride home, street lights casting shadows on their interlocked fingers. His pale chest, heaving beneath her as she fucked him. Over and over. Only fine print. 

“You know, I really think I’m getting better at this,” Jimmy clapped his hands and motioned towards his god-awful pedicure. 

“Yeah, where’d you learn to stay on your knees for so long?”

“Catholic school,” he pulled himself off of the ground and squeezed in besides Kim on the massage chair. And Kim thought coffee in the morning. Sharing cigarettes, blowing off steam. The glimmer in his eyes when he was passionate about something. The way he made her laugh. Over and over. Not only technicality… but the kind of person she could be proud of.

It scared the shit out of her.

“Come on, make good. I want my toes PAMPERED,” Jimmy pulled off his shoe, lifted his leg into the air like a damn Irish gymnast, and wiggled his toes in front of Kim’s straight face. “You ok?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Kim plucked the orange nail polish from his hands. “Silent Spring?”

“Sure, let’s match,” Jimmy grinned and Kim climbed onto the floor. Jimmy’s oversized sweatpants were the only barrier between her knees and the salon’s dirty tile floor. She uncapped the nail polish with a pop.

“Don’t kill me,” Jimmy said sheepishly. “But seeing you on your knees… kind of turns me on. Like, in a classic porn kind of way. Like I’m a housewife being pampered and you’re the sexy nanny or something.”

Kim raised and eyebrow and Jimmy shrugged. “Hey, forget I said anything.”

Sex with Jimmy was nothing more than just sex. Living with Jimmy was nothing more than living with a friend. There can’t be more. There’s no room for anything more. There can’t be.

“Jimmy, stand up.” 

“Aw Kim don’t be mad,”

“Just stand up.”

Jimmy stood up in confusion. Still kneeling, Kim slid her hands along Jimmy’s thighs and hiked up his cheesy basketball shorts. His lips parted as she trailed kisses further and further up his pale legs.

“Oh okay… I’m on board. So I’m a lonely housewife. My husband doesn’t give me enough TLC and so I’m looking for it elsewhere. And you can be-”

“Oh my God shut up, dork.”

“Not into role play? Okay, noted.”

Kim’s kisses evolved into gentle bites, and as Jimmy’s dick began to grow beneath his shorts she rubbed it with the palm of her hand. 

“Yeah Kim…” Jimmy leaned his head back with a shallow breath and a stupid smirk.

She rubbed him harder until Jimmy was thumbing at the waistband of his shorts in an attempt to pull them off. Kim held his hand behind his back. She dragged his shorts down slow, looking up at her panting friend as his erection emerged inches from her face. They held eye contact as Kim grabbed the base of his dick, felt him shudder beneath her fingertips. 

“Like that?” she asked. Jimmy’s raspy reply was lost on her as she worked her hand up and down the length of his dick. He ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes in bliss. This fucker. Kim kissed the slick tip of his erection and, once he was looking down at her with his full slack-jawed attention, she took him into her mouth. Entirely. Jimmy moaned, reached for Kim’s ponytail and pulled. 

“Fuck-”

Kim ran her tongue along the base of his dick, pulling her mouth away only to take him into her again. His grip on her hair tightened, his breathing more and more erratic.

“Let me know… if-” he struggled to between slow pumps. “I don’t want to hurt you-shit”

Sex with Jimmy was just sex with Jimmy. Nothing more. It was blowing off steam. Sharing the cigarette.

When it was over Jimmy sunk back into the massage chair, forcing sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. He motioned for Kim to sit beside him. When she did, he pulled her into a kiss.

“Jimmy, no. I just… you just… you know. In my mouth.”

“What? I don’t care about that,” he planted a simple kiss on her lips, then another on her forehead. “That was… wow. Let me get you some water. Cucumber water.”

He sprung up from the chair and basically ran to the cooler of cucumber water. Kim caught her breath. Sweet technicality.

“You know, we can never tell Ms. Nguyen about this. The cucumber water or the sex act,” he said after handing Kim her water. “Hey, why don’t you stay over tonight.”

Kim froze. “I can’t,”

“Why not? All you have in your apartment is the one mattress. Come on, stay with me. We’ll rent a movie.”

“I should… get back. I don’t want to get into this habit,” she said.

“Habit? What habit?”

“This habit of… of fucking and then staying over. It’s dangerous,.” she stood up, started looking for her purse.

“Well Kim,” he frowned. “That just might happen when we’re living in a house together.”

“That’s different.”

Kim met his eyes. Sorry Jimmy, there’s no room for anything else. “Jimmy, whatever this is… it can’t move too fast. Or else it will all fall apart.”  
“Fall apart? I’m just asking you to stay over!”

“Jimmy! I’m not your girlfriend.” 

Kim knew it was harsh. But it was for the best. And with that, she left, the bell on the salon’s door ringing through the stale Albuquerque night.


	6. The Not-Double Not-Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy McGill is the Milwaukee's Best of not-double not-dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Wow it's been a minute, but I figured I'd try and pick this up again. Let's go back to a simpler time... a time of will they won't they, a time where chuck is still alive and kicking. Additionally, every character is queer and loves the environment. Enjoy!

It took Kim four tries until she was finally able to call Jimmy.It had been a week since she left him at the nail salon, pants still unzipped, mouth parted slightly from asking Why don’t you just stay here tonight? The first three times it didn’t feel right. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Didn’t want to give herself the wrong idea. Besides, he’d probably call soon enough. And when he didn’t (even after a week), Kim sucked it up and did it herself. On a too-sunny morning in her HHM office she rolled her eyes and punched his number into the desk phone.

“Hello?”

“Jimmy. Hey it’s me,”

“Oh. Hey Kim,” he paused. “What’s up?”

“I, uh, want to run something by you. I was talking to Howard today...”

Jimmy groaned. “That sucks, why?”

“Well, he was talking about a friend of his, Justin,” Kim could practically hear the sarcastic comment formulating in Jimmy’s head. “And he just became an environmental lawyer. When I told him that you were thinking of specializing in environmental law, Howard offered to introduce him to you, so you could share experiences. Would you… be interested in that at all?”

“Yes! Yes, yeah absolutely! Although I am skeptical of anyone that identifies as Howard’s friend.”

“Yeah? Ok I’ll set it up. But that’s the other thing…”

“Other thing?”

“Justin suggested that we all have dinner and chat. Me, you, him… and Howard.”

“Damn, seriously?” Jimmy exhaled dramatically.

“Come on Jimmy you can suck it up for one night. He could be a great contact for you! And you know your stuff,” Kim lowered her voice. “Picture Howard’s face when he hears you reference Kropotkin-”

“Like I need to prove myself to Howard…”

“Jimmy, please?”

The line went silent. Then, a defeated exhale of breath. “Okay. For Kropotkin. For my contacts.”

“It’ll be fun! Besides, Howard will probably pay.”

“I bet he does too, the smug son of a bitch. And thanks, Kim. For setting it up.”

“Of course. So, I’ll call you later with the details.”

“Sounds good.”

“It was nice to talk to you, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, you too,” and with that the receiver clicked. Kim sat motionless, still holding the phone to her ear. After a minute she pursed her lips, released the phone, and went back to work. 

...

Kim squirmed in her T.J. Maxx cocktail dress. Of course, she was the first one to arrive at the restaurant-- a nervous habit she’d developed in her early twenties. If you’re early, nothing can surprise you.

“Always a pleasure, Ms. Wexler,” Howard offered his usual faux kiss on the cheek. “I want you to meet an old friend, Justin Alcott.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kim shook Justin’s hand. He was cuter than anyone she’d expect Howard to hang out with. 

They exchanged pleasantries about the weather before being prompted for a drink order. Manhattan for Howard. Merlot for Justin.

“Just your median-priced Pinot Grigio for the lady in the LBD,” Jimmy said as he settled into his seat beside Kim. “I take it you don’t serve Milwaukee’s Best here?”

The server shook her head.

“Then I’ll take your cheapest beer on tap!” Jimmy pecked Kim on the head. “Hello everybody, sorry I’m late.”

“Not to worry, Jimmy.” Howard shook his hand.

“James M. McGill, Esquire at Law,” Jimmy extended his hand toward Justin. Kim caught his eyes as he looked Justin up and down. She saw the little flare in his cheeks, the way his eyebrows unconsciously raise when he thinks someone is cute. Kim rolled her eyes. Jimmy McGill has a crush on everyone he’s ever met. 

“Nice to meet you, Howard has told me so much about you,” Justin met his hand and Oh, God he was sending Jimmy batted eyelashes right back. If Jimmy turns her into a third wheel with Howard she’ll kill him. 

The night progressed into talks of litigation, of 401k comparisons and memories of law school. Jimmy performed stories about his elder law clients as if he were a stand-up comedian, and Justin listened with a huge smile on his face. Probably envisioning soon-to-be environmental lawyer Jimmy in his recycling tie, sarcastically quoting Thoreau with the best of them. 

“So Jimmy, what made you want to get into environmental law?” Justin asked, chin in his hand like a teenager with a crush. Jimmy told the table what he'd told Kim that night at the nail salon: how he wants to help people, how he wants to find loopholes in corporate greed. His raspy voice trembled with excitement, and even Howard was taken aback at this newly driven Jimmy. 

And Kim let herself feel it: it was kind of hot to watch him go. All revved up about trees and shit.

“Well Kim, it was such a good idea to set this up,” Justin said. “Jimmy, you’re lucky to have a girlfriend so supportive of your career. Many people consider environmental law to be a bit risky.”

Kim coughed. Pinot Grigio down the wrong pipe.

“Yep, the old ball and chain. Couldn’t be luckier,” Jimmy patted Kim’s knee and she pushed it away.

“Actually, we’re not dating,” Kim noticed Howard roll his eyes. “Not his girlfriend, actually. Not dating. We are, that is. We are not dating.”  
“Ouch,” Jimmy retracted his hand. 

Howard smugly sipped his Merlot. “But they did just move in together,”

Everyone looked down at their plates. Kim held her breath, summoned a family emergency or sudden kitchen fire to give her an escape. Anything to get away from Justin’s confused raised eyebrow, from Howard’s satisfied folded arms, from Jimmy’s lips, parted in embarrassment. Kim’s palms prickled with sickly sweat. For the love of God, someone bring up the law. 

“Hell, I’ve been so wrapped up prepping park rangers for their testimonies in a class-action suit that I’m considering having all of them move in with me!” Justin clumsily broke the tension.

“Heh, sounds like a Village People music video,” Jimmy half-heartedly replied. He wouldn’t meet Kim’s eyes as he finished his shrimp scampi. Sure, Kim was curt. But she wasn’t wrong. They weren’t dating. It wasn’t her fault if Jimmy felt embarrassed or hurt or completely heartbroken. 

From there, the evening limped on. Breadsticks were shared, cracks about the district attorney were made. Howard, his lips stained with red wine, offered to pay. Of course. He helped Kim with her coat as she tried to meet Jimmy’s eyes. Still nothing. 

“This was actually pretty fun,” Justin said. “Would anyone like to… keep this going? I know a great bar around the corner.”

“Oh no. Kim and I have an early day tomorrow,” Howard answered for her-- something he knew that she hated. Kim nodded anyway. The night needed to end.

“Jimmy?” Justin asked. “Another drink?”

Jimmy looked at Kim for the first time in forty-five minutes. He stared her dead in the face as he said, “Sure. You can buy me that Milwaukee’s Best.”

“Or you can buy me a shot of Fireball,” 

Jimmy’s eyes shined. “Shit, okay! Goodnight guys,” he held the door open for Justin turning back to face Kim. “Don’t wait up, roomie.”

The door shut behind them, blowing crisp air against shocked faces. In a bizarre twist, the pairs of the double not-date had swapped. Jimmy, Kim’s not-boyfriend, was going to sit at a sticky bar with Hot Justin and look into his eyes as he talked ecosystems. Fine by Kim.

Howard fixed his tie as they waited for the valet. “I think it went well, don’t you Kim?”

She nodded.

“Just think... if Justin takes him home tonight, Jimmy will have slept with everybody at tonight’s dinner table,” Howard handed the valet a twenty dollar bill. “Goodnight, Ms. Wexler.”

Kim remembered the day years ago when she’d found out about une liaison de Jimmy and Howard. Jimmy had strode into the mailroom triumphantly, cheering “I did it! I slept with Hamlin!” back when Howard was still a junior associate. And Howard never hid it; he just smiled wanly whenever it came up in jest at office parties. The special bond she, unfortunately, shares with Howard. And maybe also with Justin. Jimmy McGill has a crush on everyone he’s ever met. What makes Kim different?

“I don’t think they’re gonna sleep together, sir,” Kim called after him. But Howard had already driven away. 

…

Kim spent her final night in her apartment alone. Chilly breezes from a solitary open window made the room, all suitcases and color-coded cardboard boxes, feel even emptier. But she wanted it that way. She’d even had an alibi prepared-- “Sorry, I can’t tonight. I have too much packing to do”-- in the event that Jimmy propositioned her with another tipsy sleepover. In the end, she’d gotten what she wanted, and on another side of town, Jimmy had gotten what he’d wanted, too. 

She pushed away thoughts of matching Silent Spring-painted toenails, of Hot Justin, of someone else’s cinnamon whiskey kisses on Jimmy McGill’s freckled neck. She remembered Howard’s resigned prophecy, the ever-growing dinner party of Jimmy’s sexual partners. Kim suddenly felt as if she were part of a pathetic club: Albuquerque’s largest, loneliest, bisexual harem.


End file.
